New Poems

Barney Rooney Poems

Liverpool's Renaissance
There are strangers walking again on this city’s streets
as there used to be before the tide changed
when the sun and moon knew it was time to leave it be
gave up the full of their pull on the cleansing sea

Whispered Sins in a Dark Wood Box
They said that of course the soul could not be seen
but mine was translucent white
exuding a gentle light
nestled there deep within my being

The Humbling of a Liverpool Citizen
Good morning Bernard how are we today?
The girl in the paleblue uniform top leans across my bed
the pillow is straightened and gently eased beneath my head
and the light clean smell of perfume warms me to the voice

The Fruits of Crime
Warn your children not to eat
or touch the fruit when raw
but processed flesh proves sweet enough
for those within the law

They've lifted Gerry Adams
The red light is on
the throat tight first words soften
into the deeper slower breath
flow, or fall to awkward pause

I'll Buy Me A Burger
I'll buy me a burger that's sweet and cheap
get me a burger that fills
give me a burger that I can afford
for craving is the worst of life's ills

They Say The Child's Been Radicalised
They say the child's been radicalised
impregnated before their very eyes
a neat incision implanted with precision
blind stitched the cleft between truth and lies

Otters Return To The Mersey
the layered fretted banks draw the eye
to an anguished river's every twist to try
to cast the toxic metals from its silt
and none who did it show a trace of guilt

Cat Stevens
So, the first cut is the deepest?
but what of deeper cuts to come
for to change a creed seems deep indeed
as when a father's name no longer suits his son

Hush My Sweet Newborn
Ssssh hush my sweet new born
I have carefully wiped each nipple
in preparation for your tipple
the package makes a promise

Day Surgery
I'm a day case for surgery
ready by the bed
arrived at 7 on the table by 11
out at 5 unless I'm dead

The Bittersweet Republican
The ancient order loved to cut a dash
in grey suits slashed by green and golden sash
acting the fools they had become
with their wailing pipes and beating empty drums

The Dance of the Begging Bowl
We gave each baby born to Jesus
though some lapsed to love or drink
chose a path to spurn the wrath
that kept believers from the brink

A Statue for the Rev. Ian Paisley
Prepare the granite plinth.
He has earned his place at pulpit height.
Let Carson harangue from his lonely spot
at bleached bone Stormont out of the people's sight

Liverpool's Renaissance

There are strangers walking again on this city’s streetsas there used to be before the tide changedwhen the sun and moon knew it was time to leave it begave up the full of their pull on the cleansing seafrom Burbo's black crusted wrecks left high and dry whisked off the shipwrecked souls in grey fleeced shoalsinto the dimming western sky

Left the river city’s brick and stone to weather ontake its turns of wind, rain and sleetthe frames of hanger doors of rusting sheetbeat loose for none but pigeons had a usefor dead riverside warehousesthe...